


Bellicose Carnifex

by EphemeraCrux



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo II, Diablo III, Diablo IV, Diablo Series - Richard A. Knaak
Genre: Adult Content, Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Assault, Bullying, Death, Descent into Madness, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Love/Hate, Madness, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mind Games, Mother-Son Relationship, Other, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Psychotic feelings, Sad, Sex, Torture, Violence, War, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EphemeraCrux/pseuds/EphemeraCrux
Summary: Bellicose (word meaning) agresive, warlikeCarnifex (word meaning) butcher, executionerVERY EXPLICIT CONTENT OF ABUSE TRAUMA, PSYCHOTIC FEELINGS, MURDER, CRIME, SUICIDE!Two words that describe perfectly the world of Sanctuary after all the demonic invasions that striped it of all it's peace and prosperity. Turning Inarius's and Lilith's creation into a shallow piece of bloody wet earth.A mass wave of dark cults is spreading on the whole Sanctuary.The bloody mouths of the wicked ask for vengence and violence, to reedem the wicked fate that crushed humanity.Their hurt hands, rise up at the sky, asking for new Gods to guide them to paradise.Shallow and twisted is Inarius's beloved creation, decay and rot is the soul of the desperate human, a soul that mirrors their ancient forgotten father."Let the wisdom of Rathma protect us from all who seek us harm." Kalan/Mendeln"The world around us is a vault of riches, waiting to be plundered. Every creature, every plant, and every culture can serve us, willingly or not, in our goal to and the Lords of Hells. " AdriaGhifted to kenyizsu. Thanks for your work that inspired me to write a fanfiction in my own style!
Relationships: Inarius/Lilith (Diablo series)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue - Cordolium Delirium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenyizsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenyizsu/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words meanings :  
> cordolium - heart ache  
> delirium - disturbed state of mind characterized by restlessness, fever and ilussion

The wind howled like a savage beast, spreading snow and ice anywhere in it's path. It's frozen caress was all it needed to kill anybody, it did not mattered if it was animal or human, it only had to kill.

The sunset was bloody red, the grey clouds were gathering to pay respects at the great and majestic Sun. The celestial elements blackened with shame of seeing such sins, accumulated their force and fury to spread a new storm, a new gateway to chaos, another icy torture.

The wind cut like thin blades through Rathma's sore body. Kneeling, on the frozen snow he calculated and outnumbered all the dangers he had to defeat. The slumber agony that

Lilith was summoned again, from the void, by cultists. He had to stop her! With the risk of his life, no, he had to be calculate, as in this was no place for mistakes.

Inarius's coming was a work in progress. As he knew, they came in pair, always ravaging the universe to force it to pled at their feet.

He's bone bind was there, counting all he's wishes and feelings. He clutched it tighter, moveing it towards the words peace and redemption, feeling he would lose the hold over his minds if he had to weigh more between this choices. Digging his nail harder within the word redemption, as if it would split open and grant him the gateway to recreation. Only imperfect notions and feelings writheled into his soul, mirroring his cloak caught in the winds. Soared the nephalem looked down, at the snow baptized with his fresh blood, small droplets fell down heavy, digging their grave in the frozen water what took a pure disguise.

"What are you doing here?" Mendeln's soothing voice came to his ears, takeing him away from his feelings and worries. Rathma did not moved, he sat there frozen. Waiting for his progenitor to dissapear. "Come down, you will fall!" He implored the ancient who was unmovable, even as a ghost, he kept his emotions intact, something Rathma could not do nor in life, nor in afterlife.

They were an immense part in the human soul, it seemed. Feelings, the inexplicable urges to attatch to something. Inexplicable ways that gave the human it's scruple, thus separating him from plant, animal, angel and demon. This scrupule were the only reason humanity was speared in the first place. A infim reason, as it made anyone who was possesed by them, run like a beheaded chicken.

Rathma ignored him, watching in a trace the sunset that melted away in the horizon, bathing the purelands in crimson and shadow, leaving place to the darkness to overcome this wretched world, what was hanging on a thread.

Suddenly, Rathma asimilated the sunset with Inarius's majestic fall from grace. A majestic tragedy for the one who was closer to the sun than anyone, for the one who castes him in shadow from the very moment of his wretched damned birth. His father who forced him into cowardice, who stripped him of any courage and power.

A heart achee made it's way into his old soul, as he felt closer to the mouth of hazard, even after millenias where he fought with his deepest urges, he could not win, only drown in his self pity.

He was shocked he could still feel them. After eons of solitude he realized with dread he didn't changed so much in spirit, just in body and mind. He became wise, but that was not an excuse for the incompetence he felt at this moment. It's lingering trace humiliated him to the bone. As it was the fingerprint his father left over him, condamning him to a life of smallness.

It was something he prayed never to feel again.

As much as he wished to say they were like water and oil, he could not. Sometimes, he would catch himself breeding the sick thaughts the angel and demon had implanted in his life from the begining. He would catch himself hateing and wishing to ruin and destroy. He would catch his mind going full circle around the uprise of his life, hateing himself with a passion sister with death.

Tortured by the realization that he could not ran away from his roots and from his blood, he came there to seek peace.

To meditate and clear his soul from all the impurity his demonic side was forcing on him. But this time, he had a vision, a vision of blood, gore, terror and his mother brought back from where she was caged to spend her eternity. He came there to enjoy the silence, to honor the longing for peace and got to learn something that broke him down. He was just a reflection of those wretches, no amount of cultivation could save him from this.

He stoped running in circles, but for what, he found he digged a grave around himself, a grave from wich he could emerge only by a stair of corpses and sacrifices under a frozen night of the soul.

Sighing, he hold the bone bind tighter into his pale hands. The sunset was almost over, the fall of the sun was just a fresh tormenting memory into his stormy mind.

A cold silence, where only the frozen wind would shout, sat like a wall between master and aprentice's ghost.

"Are you and Trag afraid I would jump from here?" Rathma was shakeing, an embarassing whimper broke from his cold mouth. His purple lips were moving slowly. Not that he didn't had the slightest wish to jump, ending his eternity there. Ending his rat life in the moment of now.

Yet, there it was a side of him that mocked this despicable wishes of him. He still had a world to defend, a legacy to cary on. He could not throw away the most valuable experience he had ever had, because of a stone in the road. Desperation was never a worthy act for a man.

The vision of Lilith stretching her nails to grab him, as her mouth opened large to scream as a banshie would. He saw the black blood of demons and the entraceing silver liquid of angelic substance covering her palms. The restless spark from her eyes being passed to him, as he was her mirror.

He rose in all his might but, his knees would hurt forceing him to fall down and bend. Bend to the fall.

A small laugh broke from his ravaged being.

His handsome face was even more alluring, while dight by the frost, snow and rays of light. Rathma's astonishement was a delight, it stroke marvel and Mendeln was still entranced by his perfect looks.

He was marveling about how a female nephalem would look. If the male looked like an amazing statuete, the female would be a piece of art.

He shaked his head trying to put away this kind of unpleasant thaughts. At the memory and realization, that the nephalem would read thaughts he was struck by shame. Shame for thinking in that easy and disgusting way about his mentor. A rose tent was coloring his cheeks, it was a leaving of shame.

Rathma's desperation was clear with any atempt to make himself sat on his legs. Feeling frustrated he stayed on his numb knees.

"I came here to admire the cold nature of the mountain." He's cold tone was bearely heard. "And the memory of Inarius and Lilith made me realize that, with any attempt to differentiate myself from them. I came closer and closer. Fatality is so twisted!"

Rathma clearly was putting a show of emotions into this confesion, he spit all the poison that turned his insides into insidious rooten flesh. Mendeln could feel it. He was prepared to confort his old friend like always.

"Why are you mentioning them? You are not Inarius, nor Lilith!" Puzzeled Mendeln got closer to his friend and touched his shoulder, Rathma flinched clutching his teeth.

"Yes I am not Inarius nor Lilith!" He was so clear on himself while he said this, he almost was proud of his courage. Then, he turned to face his student who was stunned. Mendeln was caught off guard by this emotional show and by Rathma's tired features painted in purple by the frost. As the light dimmed his pale face became more astonishing and misterious. Avoiding onto it, fearures and emotional glimpses Rathma was rare in displaying.

"Do you wanna know why?" The ancient asked rethorically, looking into the deep dark eyes of Mendeln. "I am not contempted to remove and destroy. I am not confortable with such life." He muttured whispering. " I thaught that by using force I would gain Sanctuary and freedom. But I was wrong, I underestimated my enemies, I WAS DEFEATED IN SUCH WAY . My power was too little, even as the first born. I ran away and made another plans, I gained more wisdom. But still, my power was too little, too little. TOO LITTLE SUCH HUMILITY!" Rathma declared heart broken, covering his grimaced face with his long palms. His heart clutching scream made Mendeln tremble of fear, his mentor was losing his last bits of sanity, or metamorphosing into something new...his real self.

"No!" Mendeln said embraceing him from behind . " It was that, you genuenly thaught about humanity and you was trying to keep them safe without turning them into slaves. You fought just, not with cunning and torture. You are not like them, be thankfull of that Rathma." Rathma laughed covering his face. Mendeln recalled it and realized it was a cry.

"What is of use to fight wolves with a stick? To fight with tricksters, you have to be a greater trickester. So they would know the pain and fear. " Rathma said heart broken, shakeing by fear he keept going. It was a chance for himself to free from all the anguish he accumulated over his long existence. " Fighting fire with fire is dangerous, but it is the only way I am left to fight her...them." Rathma gasped for air still not beleiving what he was saying.

Mendeln froze, but tightened his grip over his friend who twisted his body away so he could be free.

"I have to show them all I am capable of doing, this fight won't be in vain. I do not want to give in my darkness, but I have no choice to defend Sanctuary."

"Is Lilith back...?" Mendeln asked shocked, not knowing what to say, he knew it was crushing, fatal but he could not grasp the core as Rathma ran circles around it.

Rathma did not continued the discution, just used his bloody fringer to write something in the snow, then melted within the night. Leaving the ghost of Mendeln tormented by pain and worry.

Carnage

Was the word Rathma scratched across the iced snow, a word that shock Mendeln to his core, as tears fell over his face.

The founder of necromancy,

sat there praying for the inner peace of his mentor and the fate of Sanctuary.


	2. Malicious Conviction

"Lord Malum, I am here to see how you feel!" Maghda announced while she was entering into Malum's private room.

He was coughing terrible , for a moment it seemed he was going to spit out his lungs.

Flyes roamed around the room, floating in a disgusting stentch of sqalidity. Their finest attraction was the bucket full of sick spit and even some blood.

The air had a foul odor, hard to breathe, even loathsome. The sickening stentch made a perfect nest for nauseous small creatures. Bugs also roamed the floor, made only from dirt, happily digging and mating, living their best existence.

Rats and mice, also had their special places in the room of the head master of the infamous Coven. Sometimes, he could hear them digging tunnels, or fighting inside the broken walls.

Malum, one of the three headmasters of the Coven. A thief who could speak with the demons and ask them where he could find gold. In a major percentage, the Coven acted like a criminal gang, killing for gold with the ardor for bloodshed, and the torture that could mirror the Burning Hells. They were the crimson blood of chaos, brought by the streamings of the twisted howlets.

As the demon Mephisto was saying in his bible "Where I am, is Hell!"

This words were held in high regard by the Coven. This men and women were very fond to spread all the fury of the demons through their savage destruction.

Coven - twisted humans, tormented by the most animalic urges.

The Coven is an interesting cult, it is a place for lost souls who could not find their way into the world, it was a place for those who were born with witch blood. It is a place for renegates who were consumed - feuled by the most bitter, cunning and vile possible for a human soul.

Frail souls, broken under the wieght of their shadow side. Cannibals of the spirit, who seek to filth good morals just because this morals overcome them or have failed them through the tides of life.

Power, is itself is an illusion that can cut like a knife through the unripe souls of the weak, who gather inside bloodshed, instead of force. This unriped souls are the first to fall into the darkness, as they do not know how to show power without cannibalistic dominance.

It is an infamous place full of witches, thiefs, cold blooded criminals, renegated sorceress rejected by Ishari Sanctum, bitches, beggars, rapists all kinds of people nobody would want to ever meet in their life.

As for the witchcraft, it was a formality in this comunity, practiced only by the head masters of the Coven and some ghifted or curious witches. A godforsaken order where anybody could be anything but good or pious.

Persuing their wishes through force is the only way the viciously abused can feel worthy and safe.

Unfortunatelly, it is so easy to be a rotten malice death cup , it facilitates feelings you could never elevate to, even in a life time of vigurous meditations, nor through reading infinite books of wisdom.

Human has, is, and will always, be a being of mirroring. They mirror in their behaviour how others have treated them. They harvest horror, just to feel the intensity to have the grip of someone's mind and soul at their own controll. The Coven, is, in it's truest essence, a gathering of the bottomless pit of human condition. A true collection of the most abstract shades of the human soul, spirit and mind.

Human is a creature of feeling, adversity and experience. It can shine or it can twist, under the mockery of a brutal fate who is mercyless.

Poverty surrounded this man, he could easely pass as frugal or minimalistic, a very virtuous image for many, but in his case, he was only a stingy man. Possesed by the clavary of a skimpy mind that was uneasy even when he was sleeping.

A bed and a broken loose rug, was all he possesed and held dear, in this wretched world.

But, under his bed sat a mass of glod and stolen jewellery from Inarius knows where! He gave no fucks about being a great cultist, bringing glory to the Seven Lords of Hell. He gave no shit about them. All he cared about in this world was wealth.

All the lore of Demons wanting to win the battle of the Eternal Conflict was too childish for him. He was there to live for himself, to gather wealth and spend it on his own desires. He was a greedy pig, not a slave for mythical creatures who were meant to be his slaves.

In his mind, human was the strongest entity in the universe and all was aligning with his wishes.

He was contacting the spirits and asked them for locations of forgotten treasures, but it was a win-win situation. He would win gold, the spirit would win a sacrifice.

"What are you doing here!?" He asked still trembling from his fever.

Streams of sweat, fell like a cascade over his fragile sick body. He was bathing into a bitter stream of sticky cold water produced by himself.

His heart pounded into his chest, in the moment when Maghda sat in front of him, he started coughing terribile holding tight the mattress where his money were. Desperation sat like a knot into his mind where all he could hear was 'Protect the wealth!'.

But he had no clue how.

So now he found himself here, trembling like a dog, blocked in a frenetic trance. The hold on his mattress was tighter, he was struggling to make himself weight harder and harder on it, so he could be unmovable.

Annoyed by her presence he uprighted his head and looked with all the hate he had within, into her bottomless black eyes what looked like more like an actual abyss. All his strenght faded when she smiled in a scoffing way at him.

At a sign of her hand two brutes of humans entered in the room, and without hesitation took up the scared man.

He left out a bloodcurling scream as he was twitching, like a fish on earth, in their abusive grip.

"What the fuck do you want from me!? Get away! AWAY!!!" He shouted, cought in a sudden panick, but soon he lost his strenght and collapsed under his own weight upright coughing and spitting. Trembling , mutturing swearing for all of them, he was still fighting with their grip, hoping to be free soon.

"I am the head master of Coven.. Î can kill you!" He tryed so hard to be strong but all he was worrying about was his wealth.

Maghda had a vile smile on her pale face, her thin lips curved in a twisting smirk. She leaned forward, enjoying the show Malum gave her.

"Do not worry, I am here to help youuu." She assured him with the most high pitched tone, she was possessing.

"Bitch!" He hissed trying to spit on her.

Nodding in a negative way, Maghda looked around, she put her palms slowly on her hips as she started to explore the room.

"So much poverty for the head master of the Coven! What a impecuniosity!" She said in the same mocking tone, walking around and squishing some bugs under her feet. " The animals will eat you before the sickness or even death!" She comented for herself looking at the walls what were ready to fall, the fresh blood from new demonic symbols were drepping on them, it was a disgusting place to live in.

" I know you are frugal." She said the word frugal long in a whispered manner. " So this is why I brought a very talented witch to cure you." She continued explaining herself, as she was aproaching him. A tanned palm sat on his sweat head in an attempt to clam him down, but in reality he felt so humiliated and angry at this moment.

"I AM VERY WELL! Do not worry, when I will gather my powers I will make you pay! S..."

Maghda cut him with a slow laugh.

"You are worse than I have thaught. Adira!" At her calling, another woman entered. She had the same vile and cunning expression all over her face. Her emerald green eyes were glearing, from this moment on, he knew he had to be carefull around that one. She had a bowl full of something green, not comestible from it's moldy color.

Without a coment she took a big spoon from it and tryed to forcefully stuff it into his closed mouth. It was in vain because the man kept his mouth shut, like it was a prson cell.

Maghda took her wooden staff and smashed the sufferer over his stomach. Another scream filled the tense atmosphere, as another cough access made itself usefull under this battle.

"Bitches I WILL KILL YOU!" Hearing this Maghda grabbed him by the collar of his old robe and smashed him into a wall. The old dirty fabric of the robe tore into her hands, some of it remaining into her clutched fists. She wanted to teach this pig a lesson but the soft hand of Adria stopped her.

"Stop ! We will lose so much time with it, keep him still, so i can feed the potion to him!"

Annoyed Maghda did as she was told, so togheter, she and the men pinned the poor headmaster to the ground. Cockroaces and spiders started to get up on his sick hurt body, exploring this new hot territory.

Adria got to stuff a spoon full of this gore green potion into his mouth, but, the joy didn't lasted. Malum spit quickly what he was feed with, starting to scream like a mad man, twitching under the weight of his tormentors.

"LET GO OF ME!" He shouted with all his might then another coughing access got him. Adria and Maghda were trying so hard to stuff this green liquid into his mouth but again, the coughing was his luck.

"What is the meaning of such chaos!?" A strong piercing voice of a woman brought a stream of hope into Malum's eyes.

She was Vespertilia, the right hand of Magnus another headmaster of the Coven. She was a short woman, with piercing blue eyes as light as the sky in a summer day. Her long curly red hair was anywhere when she was dancing, it looked like her face was caught in a fire. She had not so mesmerizing facial features, as Mother Lilith, all she held from her, was the fiery hair and full pink lips.

With frowning eyes, she looked for a brief moment at the duo , she knew they were cooking something fatal, but she had no clue what, untill now. She decided she was needing some help, and to keep playing dumb to catch some time, untill she was covered and safe.

Being in the same status as Magha made all her attempts futile, for her displeasure, sau had to play dumb and leave that hypocrite of a witch to put her down. Untill an idea came... She caught a spider and whispered a soft spell to it, after that, the small animal left.

Maghda and Adria were surprised, scared of her piercing presence, Vespertilia wasn't scary, but her protector was. Fear was all she could see on their tightened faces, a thing she was enjoying.

"Your highness Vespertilia!" Malum cryed crawling to her feet. " They... this bitches... are trying to kill me!" He howled turning his red head in their direction.

"HOW YOU DARE!" Maghda shouted, the anger was soon replacing the fear that blocked her before.

"It is true... they beat me, forced me to drink this. It is poison. it is poison. it is poison. " He rised an accusing finger at Adria who held the bowl with the mixture of herbs, then he kept whispering about the poison as he kept crawling into his bed.

"Initiate, what are you giving him to drink?" Vespertilia asked, this time more soft. Adria gave no reply, she sat frozen there, admiring the red head's aura.

"Adria, answer to Vespertilia!" Maghda kept encouraging her friend who sat motionless.

"It is a plant tea made from linden, peppermint and milfoil. We have heard, our headmaster is sick, so we decided we need to bring him something to make him gather his strenghts. " Adria replyed soft and easy, her tone of voice sounded like a charm.

Another one sat at the door, a tall man with pale features as pale as a cloud. He looked inside still trying to figure out what the hell happened here. He wore an amazing robe, made from a shiny black leather. On his chest, like an amulet, was placed an upside down gold peantagram. He smirked at all of them holding his hands on his chest.

"In that way!?" Vespertilia asked still not beleiving them, pointing at the traumatized man who was clutching his mattress, he kept whispering one word "poison".

"Vespertilia! Are you accusing us of something?" Maghda tryed to put straws on fire just to save themselfs. " You know the calomny of a superior is a great sin, payed with blood." Maghda was spirraling out of ideas, the hate for this woman ruined her day.

"No! I am searching for the truth!"None of them left their guard down. It was quite a show for Adria who was regretting her union with the loud mouthed idiot Maghda. "Jane, investigate the bowl!"

After tasting that, she sat in her knees facing her superior Vespertilia.

"There is no poision in this drink!" All the souls went silent, the amazement was painted in all their faces. But Malum could not beleive this, he was certain of them, he knew they were going to hurt him.

"HOW!?" He shouted then collapsed onto his beloved mattress.

"Maghda! Remember you are not the superior of Vespertilia. Is your mind so short? In fact, you offended my right hand without a reason." This new voice was soft spoken, it sounded mesmerizing, a fatal charm.

Adria looked with big eyes the strongest and most clever headmaster of the Coven.

He was a challange, indeed. Putting down this stingy clown, the bawdy and this doll -the right hand of this demigod - was easy for her but him. He was a challange as the doll with firery hair proven to be.

Maghda started babbling and praying for forgiveness, it was fake, she just wanted to escape a brutal punisument. Adria was still entranced by this two matching individuals, she regretted more this plan.

A sadistic smile arched on his pale lips as he thaught of numerous ways to strip them of their dignity.

"Magnus do not punish them, it seems like they had been missunderstood." Vespertilia said in a fake tone and she placed her long arms around her master's shouders. Her blue eyes shone like water and he could hardly resist her innocent pleading.

"My dear!" Magnus caressed her red check with his long bony fingers. " If I am leaving them escape like this, people would doubt my ability to rule the Coven, all the descipline I have inflicted on this lost souls would be lost in a matter of times." He explained quickly this, to his beloved woman who was clearly playing a trick on them just to annoy Maghda. "But... If you ask for their forgiveness in such sweet ways. I could not let your wish unfulfilled." He kept caressing her face in a tender way, glaring poisonous daggars at Maghda, who left her head down, furiously bitting her lower lip.

"Maghda! You and Vespertilia are both dark cultists. The same rank. Do not forgot that!" He said paying attention to his lover who also looked at him. "Also..."

He materialized in front of her catching her chin with his fingers. A stream of blood fell from her lower lip. She tryed to resist the urge to curse her and the fainted clown.

"You made numerous mistakes today...you and your partener have to pay for them."

At his words, Vespertilia made a hand sign and many Dark Thralls entered into the room takeing the two screaming women out.


	3. Day of wrath

The rain fell violently over the withered muddy field. The quick falling rain drops made it seem like a cloud of fog was stretching over this suffering piece of the world covering it into a macabre atmosphere to avoid exposing it's weakness that was on desplay.

Withered poisoned grass drowned in big splashes of dirty sangvine water, an entirety of sticky mud.

The old tress were scattered here and there, creating the atmosphere of a place not so despicable. A mass of green moss was covering the old tress, what were cracking under the soft breeze of the october wind.

In some heels, sat proud and mighty the last remains of Leoric's madness.

Observation towers, he had commanded to be build this in a fever of acute delirium. Towers what had the mission to keep him safe from invaders. But not from his increasing paranoia, what was lurking in the back of him mind, forceing it's way out.

The debriss remains, of a doleful soul that fell into the clutches of demons. A very tragic fate, where nor death can save the doomed, born to suffer only for justifying the eveil.

Washed by the savage rain, Adria and Maghda sat in front of Leoric's Manor - the new house of the Coven - kneeling, pleeding for their grave mistake.

A very cruel procedure that was made to strip them violently of all their dignity and self respect. A way of pushing them into a spirall of hate and madness.

The one who made this punishment is a very wise man, but too leaned on the darkness. A very charismatic man, who abuses of his charm to rip off favours and to gain blind allies. A very vexated soul, not only in criptic demonic knowledge, but also a reader of the human spirit. Magnus, the most competent and inteligent leader of the Coven, his wild saddistic spirit burning at the edge of glorious desires known only by him.

And his partener and right hand Vespertilia. A cold and cunning woman who was easy to learn and very enchanting. Her sharp mind was like philosoper's razor, it cut down any illusion and fantasy that could drive her into a narrow failure.

She was a woman who wore many maskes, adjusting them to fit on every situation or need. Even her real nature was unknown to her, unlike Magnus who always knew who he was his unlimited potential.

A match made in the deapths of Hells.

"Maghda!" Malum called her in a very pitched way, giggling hysterical after saying her name out loud. His body was shakeing like it was caught in a compulsive torrent of spasms. "Out of roopes, since your dirty mouth left you into chaos?" Another coughing acces made him stop from his tirany.

He laughed again, after the coughing stoped, animated by the same spasms that shocked his still sick body.

Malum was there to take his revenge, fortunately, Magnus let him taste it fully. Such an aromated ghift, from his brother in spells.

Maghda remained silent, she swallowed the empty air of the infamous october, clutching her fists tight, in an attempt to keep her patience.

She bowed her head down, so she could not see his mocking face or his wretched smile, elements that would make her flip.

Cold rain drops fell over her hot body burned under the flame of hate. 'I will ruin all your existence! I swear!' She said all in her mind, as a fever of venomous compulsion held her still.

She felt nauseous as the humility hung her over the abyss of madness. She felt useless, under the preasurre of her own high failed ideals. She felt broken, as she knew Adria, the only one who was paying attention to her, loveing her, cherishing her, was also humiliated. Probably the red hood witch was mad at her.

She flipped under the stress, the humility that crippled in her bones, her lips started trembling as she held the cry in.

"Oh..." Magnus humed very moved by this picture of Maghda. He smiled unveiling his yellow teeth, deep within his cold blue eyes sparked a ray of pure malevolence. "You were once so full of life, so beautiful. Now, you look like a rag!" He laughed again louder, accompanied by other memebers of the cult who were hanging at the broken windows of the manor.

Despite her efforts, he clutched her face into his palm and contemplated it, her expression was delightfull, he admired her with the most disgusted face.

His facial figure looked like he was looking at a fresh shit, but even if he did so, his face would not tighten so much in utter disgust.

All of the people who looked from their windows were talking and even whispering, Maghda just closed up in her mind, so she could not hear their words.

Deep, inside her twisted mind, the pale witch , pictured macabre ways of their slain, she pictured twisted ways where they would scream and shrink under her glorious power. She pictured barbaric tortures just to full herself in this rotten day, just to forget about her irreparable fallacy.

"Eh? Why are you so silent? Has the cat eaten your tongue?" He keeped on humiliating her, the same grinn getting dense on his face.

Just to give her a taste of her own medicine, Malum grabbed a full hand of nettles.

The look in his eyes was marvelous, his eyes shone with such delight, like he had discovered the way to summon Lord Diablo. Furiously Malum rubbed the nettles over her full lips, the same malicious grinn enlighting his features.

Maghda shricked pulling herself back, shamed of this, disgusting attempt to ruin her.

But her lips itched burning hot, all she could do was to scratch them and swallow all this poison that would make her stronger.

Malum took a fistfull of her lush hair, despite her scream he was deeply admiring the damage he was inflicting on her. He started coughing, so he let her fall on the mud.

"Such lush hair!" Malum marveled at the weight and lenght of such hair.

Closing his eyes, he patted her on her head, his sick palm falling over her wet soaked hair. The feeling of touching such hair was incredible, a true pride for a young woman. An idea came to his mind in the meantime. He grabbed a daggar, watching his reflexion into it's silvery blade.

A thunder strike scared them all, but he was still entranced in the fever of his .shady conceit. He grabbed a bit of this lush black hair, black as a raven feather, he stared at it in the most mourning way, before Malum started cutting it with such raw violence he kept smashing her head on purpose.

"PIG! LET GO OF ME!" Maghda shricked under a cold fever that mobilized her whole body. She inhaled quickly trying to stabilize her power.

As she rised her eyes, she met hiw taunting gaze. She wimpered angry as she was trying to rise and fight him, but she could not do so, blood rised in her head agravating her migraine. In an attempt of freeing herself she tried to bite his hand but, all she did was to push him into the mud.

Gore and blood covered Maghda's mouth, ravaged, her body was going to crack under the pressure of this undiserved punishment. She did nothing wrong, the fool diserved her rebuke.

He was the leader of the Coven, but did nothing to bring glory to it. All he did was, steal, fuck, destory, nothing that could associate with demons and the Triune. He was the incarnation of lazyness, she was just tring to get rid of the weeds and harvest a glorious path for the cult.

He started coughing, asphixiated for a little moment. The rain, the anger and the shock all of this played a negative part on his decreasing health. Malum rolled over his side with anger filling his veins.

"You! You!" He growled angry as he grabbed her wrist. "You won't leave from here untill the third Sabbath!" He inhaled and exhaled quickly, holding his hand tight on his chest. "Also." His face turned deep red, green veins puffing over his body, looking ready to explode.

Slowly Adira chuckled, watching the show. It was a grave mistake to ally with such hard boiled woman, who was acting on instinct, like an animal.

She had to carry with it untill the very end, they could have poisoned the fool.

The chance was at their feet, but Maghda decided it was wise to mock the old man and play games on him.

Because of her stupid vanity, she was kneeling, in the bloody cold rain, for a half of a day. Her bones felt aching and her flesh was soaked in her wet dress.

The most wise alternative in this match, was to shut up, and play dumb when he was going for her. She knew that he would show her mercy because she was more kind towards him than Maghda was.

"Oh... And who are you?" Malum came to Adria with a stupid curiosity crossing on his red face. "You looked so full of life. Enchanting! As beautiful as a peony. How about I freshen you up?" Malum asked rhetorical as he grabbed a fist full of mud and splashed it all over Adria's check. He gave a loud silly laugh as he saw the mud falling from Adria's face.

Jane beheld very scared the scene from outside, trembling she was terrified for her life under the Coven. At this moment, she became to regret her entrance in such animalic cult.

One wrong step, leads to more wrong steps.

In such moments of acute trepidation, she inhaled loudly, her thaughts breaking like small pieces of mirror. In such demonic views she was losing her grip over her own desires. When the little initiate of the Coven was face to face with the cruel reality, she simply backed up terrified. It seemed her life would be painfull in any other place. It was unfair! Life was so unfair towards some people, from their birth, to their death. Fate was so unfair, punishing people who were not guilty.

Jane could not comprehend how and why Maghda and Adria were so viciously pushed. They were there to help the old crazy man, who was so ungratefull towards those who gave him their time and their healing potions.

The world is so cruel to those who are good and pure! She thaught as she tightened the grip on her own body.

In moments of exteme fear she would hug herself to calm down and relax.

From when she was little, she learned that the only human who cares for her, is herself. Suddenly this violent scene vividly recalled her of how she grew up. She reminded of all the nightmared what kept haunting her. Leaning outside the window she kept her urge to vomit.

Her body was again caught in a panick, her heart pounded like she was going to die. She did not wanted to die! But, nor to live like this either!

She just wanted that all the ordeal that tormented the humans be over, she wished upon a safe world where no human would hurt another.

She was drowning again in a delirium where frenetic thaughts circulated in her head. Suddenly she thaught she heard the wicked voice of her mother. The vile woman who was selling her children to obliquitous men, was the same as the people who composed this cult.

"What are you focusing on?" Vespertilia asked, still playing dumb. Even if she saw the fear in little Jane's eyes, she kept acting like it was a part of a routine, in an attemt to make this girl gain courage and give up on cowardice.

The young woman watched with fake curiosity the scene from outside, a small piece of her being proud of this achivement. "Ah!" She humed as she got away from the window, dragging Jane away too.

Red as a tomatoe, Jane looked the woman in her eyes, the young one was ready to cry because of the shock that broke her heart.

"WHY!?" She inhaled clutching her fists. "Why is master Malum beating this two women? They are innocent! They did not did something wrong. It was not poison. It is unfair." Jane spoke faster, as tears rolled over her rosy checks.

"What they did, was very grave!" Vespertilia added caressing Jane's head. "They tryed to hurt him, intimidate him, so he would fall from his position." Vespertilia explained it whispered, as she was dragging the girl down the hallway after her.

When they entered Vespertilia's private room, the older woman started talking, with more caution.

"What this two witches did was outrageous, they had a plan, I can not comprehend what, but we stopped it from happening." Vespertilia explained holding Jane's hands.

"No!" Jane said in a fit of anger.

"Maghda and Adria are too close, they are really strage. With Adria's ghift and her potential, Maghda would have catched jealosy in a matter of days, for this young woman..." Vespertilia contemplated more for herself. "The man was in a very bad shape. If you remember, he was pinned to the ground and forcefully feed." The fiery hair woman highlighted in another attempt to wake Jane to reality. "People are more cunning than you may ever think!"She ended up saying, something she did not wished to say. "Always keep you guard up and never give in façades!" This was Vespertilia's advice. Jane kept silence, still not satisfied with Vespertilia's explanation.

The dark summoner took a book, she held on her work table, she quickly passed through it to see if it is the correct one.

"Write down on paper the word CONSIDER for 150 times, under this day. When I came back i will continue to talk some sense into you." Vespertilia said and left the young Jane alone.

Frankly, all the speech about the pure inocence of Maghda started to push Vespertilia's nerves on the edge. Maghda and innocent were two words never to cross paths in this life.

She was sure that wretch was preparing something, but what was it? Certanly her and Adria's aliance was something to fear, because Maghda's fiery nature and Adria's cunning soul made also a great match. Plus, both women had ambitions and were indubitable ghifted.

She had to be cautious around them.

They would never give up so easely, furthermore this humiliating punishment was a fuel for their hatred wich surelly was pointing towards her.

Gods bless, Magnus had her back, therefore all would be more difficult for her!

Caught up in her introspection she did not realized she was at his door, shakeing her head in an attempt to clerify her thaughts she entered in the room smiling brightly.

Magnus was so caught up into his studies he did not heard her entering, but her presence was always a bless to him.

"What are you studying?" Vespertilia asked him, aproaching slowly like she was hunting.

"Demonology." Magnus answered promptly, tired from all the draining hours of reading and deciphering all the enigmas hidden in each page. When she reached his chair she gave a quick glance over his papers.

"I brought you something you'd enjoy." She whispered slowly near his ear. Magnus just turned his head to face her, his big black eyes staring into her's. He eyed her for a second not breaking the eye contact.

"I am confident you will enjoy this!" She gave a slight answer, arching her lips in a big smile, as she placed an old tome in his right palm.

"Hystorical reports about Lilith and her legacy!" Magnus exclamed enthuziastic, showing such big explosions of emotions was unnatural for him. Yet, the excitement of dicovering something new about Sanctuary's Mother and her being, was a true bliss for him, since she was the entity he was worshiping.

"I found them in an old temple, when I left in serching for herbs that can help me make the New Moon ritual." She explained briefly, as her palms sat on Magnus tense shoulders. She leaned her head more close to his, and looked through the pages of the tome she found, the excitement that radiated from him was clear.

Moving her fingers slowly over his chest she slowly unbottomed his fancy robe, the hard leather fabric fell sluggish, exposing his pale white skin, pale as the new moon.

She huged him, leaning her head over his shoulder, caressing with the tips of her thin fingers his hard tense chest.

He was absorbed by the book so he barelly noticed Vespertilia's attempts of turning him on. "I was going to give it to you yesterday, but those two... made it not possible." She kept on explaining whishing to gain his attention to plan some things.

Magnus kept on being calm, moreover he enjoyed her company, so It was the perfect moment to get him where she needed him to be. " It was a great idea to have Malum punish them! You made the things easyer for both of us."

He relaxed, falling helpless in the same soft complex lust he always had for her.   
Magnus placed the tome carefully on his big table covered in tomes, books and papers, smiling wicked, he took Vespertilia's palm into his hand. For a brief moment he contemplated all the scars from it, signs of devotion to the Burning Hells.

This devotion on darkness, was an element what made them both melt together, always coming again at eachother never tired of the same company, the same contours of the same body. The same person who was entering deeper and deeper in each of their lonely soul. Their essence had something alluring about them, an enchanting trace what made them put aside the routine, seeing anything as a new trace.

Feeling turned on by her easy going inocent attempts of getting him. Magnus gave up all his plans of studying. The leader of the Coven left himself plentifully spoiled by his mistress. He kissed her thin wrist slowly, in the most intense way possible. It was his little way of showing his attention to Vespertilia in their alone time. "Leave it be." He put aside her argument, asking for more company than ghossip from her. The robe was sliding over his body exposing more and more pale skin, Magnus quivered under the cold breeze from the room what was attaching his warm skin.

" This two are so wierd." Vespertilia complained, caressing her face of his this sensation put them closer to each other, makeing them feel inseparable in the most intense ways. " They should be enemies. Also, they acted so brutal towards Malum. If they didn't reached to poison him, then what?" She kept going despite Magnu's frustrated sigh.

"Fuck them all!" He let it out. Vespertilia stoped from her caressing for a second, staring at a frowned annoyed Magnus who kept her wrist tight around his lips. " Why are you here in the first place? What do you want from me, exactly? I do not give a fuck about this whores or their wicked trickeries!" He said more for himself then placed her hands around his neck, he was longing for the affection her body promised to provide, not for the gossip, wich he personally hated, nor for meticulous plans of putting their enemies down.

He was too stressed for such pety thaughts, he wanted a piece of confort, some relaxation and her near him. The first time he admited to himself, the mere fact he desired her prsence longing at the same time for some solitude with this fiery witch.

Vespertilia stared at him thwarted, taking her hands away from his body. "I was seeking some advice, some encouragement. I am so nerved by all this mess that is after us. You know they were looking to do something big! If I was not there to break their plot we could have been the next. " Vespertilia was squaeling taking some steps back.

"I do not wanna to hear of this problems, not tonight. I am tired." Magnus was honest to her, genuine honest. He sighed hitting his palms over the table. The thaught of losing his best ally and mistress in such childish way made him put his pride aside, just for tonight. "Leave them behind! We will step on them when they will give the first signs of cooking something. Just do not bring this on, for tonight." Magnus voice was tired, fatigue was easy to decipher through it's faint tones.

"I am so sorry for putting you through this." Vespertilia excused herself in an attempt to keep alive and strong the same bound that made them invincible.

She covered the windows with the hangings lightening the candles.


	4. Sanguineous. Divine justice !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC CHAPTER! IT CONTEINS GORE BLOOD, TRAUMATIC EVENTS, DELIRIUM. IF YOU ARE EASELLY TRIGGERED PLEASE READ SOMETHING ELSE. IF YOU DEALWITH TRAUMA OR TRAUMATIC EVENTS., PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOU CAN GET TRIGGERED. GO READ KENYIZSU'S FIC THAT FIRST SPARK, IS FANTASY AND CUTE. 
> 
> Sanguineous (means) bloody
> 
> Quotes used in this chapter.  
> ¹ - "What is death? A scary mask. Take it off – see, it doesn’t bite. Eventually, body and soul will have to separate, just as they existed separately before we were born. So why be upset if it happens now? If it isn’t now, it’s later. — Epictetus" 
> 
> ²- " No evil is honorable: but death is honorable; therefore death is not evil. — Zeno of Citium " 
> 
> Rathma saves the day, somehow.

A dense cloak of black clouds, covered the dark sky of the night. The moon was shun away from the vault of the universe, it's missing light left Sanctuary hollow, drained of magic and life.

Frozen was the air of the enchanting autumn, the smell of soil and thick putrid blood loathed into the world like it was a part of it.

Bloodlust increased with every passing day, the innocence was tormented while exposed to the cold axe of the butcher. Somehow it was a strong motif that made people to divine a utopic miracle. A mizerabile utopia that kept them going still, without altering their sanity, just hanging their souls on a rusty anchor. An anchor that someday will bring them to solid clear earth. Exposed to cruelty, the human soul just broke down into pieces, invoking long forgotten Gods and Ancient Parents, all this humility just to take their minds out of the vicious blood circle that smashed all life lust that burned deeply into a frail human.

In the age of darkness, all smashed into a heavy supreme cry for the Father. The intensity of that desperate prey could break the heavens into two. But there was no hope for redemption, in the name of those who were born weak. Nothing uncomon, for a world fallen into disgrace.

After the world fell, the inhabitants would follow soon after.

Temptation and hope were the only ropes that kept humans hanging on life. Only this, and nothing more.

Cruel is the law of the universe that allows humans to kill and go blind of feelings and compassion.

Under the cover of the heavy night, the Zakarum church was completelly drowned into emptyness. A mute fear stalked around this majestic corner of heaven, not as pure as the beleivers wanted to depict it. Still a strong beleif for the innapreciable useless human who could only divine when exposed to danger.

Trully a horrific night, like a cage or a labirinth wich provided no escape, it was a suffocating atmosphere.

The howls of the lone owls cripled a suffocating sense of an intoxicating fear. This particullar night made humans feel like there was something out to get them, the signs were too clear and too accurate to be left behind.

The beautiful voices of the Zakarum priests were echoing into the nearings of the old church, humans had the potential to reach the angelic resonances with their majestic voices. Trully impressing!

The odes held great pain into their words, the fatal lullaby was like a cold claw, it held to soul captive into a trance were it just sat there lost, but still into the world, absorbing the majestic pain what was reflecting in this ode of pain and redemtion.

Mesmerizing were the odes rised up at the heavens as prayers to the Light.

Prayers for a better life, prayers for peace, prayers for a miracle, prayers for courage and strength.

The High Priest held the ceremony alone, in the middle of the night with his aprentice as a faithfull watcher.

He wore silk white robes that covered all his tall body and gloves over his hands from the same fabric as the robes.

The lad had the mission to light the candles, ring the bell and prey in silence.

A burining flame of devotion burned into his heart as he did all this choirs and duties. He held the handle of his sword tight as he sat knelling, his palms got violet and his veins swollen on the massive bear grip. A hot wave burned on his heart, expanding through his body like a wave of power. He felt invincible, he felt he had a meaning in this world, a meaning no one would take lightly. A meaning that made him stand above all, a meaning that gave him the power to push up through all the difficulties of life on this wretched world.

A stream of tears fell from his dry eyes, as the preyer went on. His hands started trembling and shakeing an odd feeling smashed on his chest pinning him down. He inhaled strongly regaining his vision, the marvelous song filled him with the strenght he needed. Sprinting on his feet, the boy sat up looking around him. A feeling of disclosure, like his soul was leaving his body kept him limp.

The smoke blend with all the colors, and The Grand Church looked like a nightmareish place from his youth.

Clutching his teeth the boy started to move from that paralizing state, he had to keep going with the pray, his master was counting on him, the whole world was counting on him.

Painfull was every move he made a hot wave, like a tornado rushed through his blood freeing his bones from the chains of this paralysis.

Opening again his eyes, the boy saw the same statues drowned into smoke then the faces of the statues danced around his eyes as he was again departing from the world.

"NO! I HAVE TO RESIST THIS URGE TO FALL!" He told himself as he was leaning on his sword. He clutched his teeth, moving his young shoulders up and down. The painfull dizziness dissipated being replaced with fresh power.

His ears ringed under the heavy prey, his hands hurt no more, The Light gave him strenght to face this challange.

Smilling , the boy moved to lit a candle but he stopped when he felt a strong smell of incense, used to bless and purify a dead body, before it was buried to keep it safe from demonic possessions.

"I smell dead incense!" A soft voice of a woman said holding her hand at her heart, as she sat on a chair.

"Mom, what are you talking about? There is no incense burning." A child voice answered her. "Oh." The woman gasped in a scared sigh. "Go check on your grabdma!" She rushed him scared. "Go!" Before he could ever say something she rushed him again , this time more brutal.

And when he entered in the room where the old woman was lying, he saw her fallen on the floor, the cover resting near her. She was trying to scream, but she wasn't heard, she was trying to move, but she could not do that.

The immense fear of faceing death was etched on her old face. The open mouth still haunted the little boy, as well as his mother's scream of terror, as she saw the dead woman. "*

The boy shaked his head and slapped his face to get away from this memory of fear that echoed into his nightmares.

Strange , the candle won't lit, he tryied again but it was like the the thread was soaked into water. He kept trying, but the frustration boiled on him. He took a deep breath to calm down. The anger was a eveil emotion he had to put behind to get closer to the Light.

The sound of burning candles would be something that would haunt the boy forever.

He sighed getting on his feet and just listened to the song, it was the time to go ring the bells. He planted the sword on the floor and went to the door.

But before he could open it, the door smashed wide like it was pushed by a tornado. It wasn't.

Before him sat a mass of humans, dressed in white robes soaked in blood and mud. He gasped terrified as fear kept him still, his hands and legs trembled. Fear, no terror was the feeling that put hit down in this pathetic way. His lip trembled as a hot wave of fear struck in his chest like a thunder, after moments of silence, he realized that a violent rain started to pour down from the heavens, thunder and lighting falling rappidly from the disturbed sky. The air stopped into his neck as time stopped in a painfull moment what was crucial for him. The blood rised on his head and all he could do was stau there like an idiot. He cursed himself to rise and fight, he invoked the Light to came and guide his sword but nothing happened. He just trembled in the face of eveil. A mute hiccup escaped him.

Their boss, a man with small black eyes full of eveil smirked at him, his crimson lips arched in the most saddistic smile the boy have ever seen. His eyes sent cold shivers through his thin body the amount of darkness he saw there was terrifing. The man was dressed in a black rag like a beggar, but there was an interesting contrast, huge gold and silver rings covered all his fingers. For a weapon, he held nothing in his yellow long hands, what looked like demonic claws to the boy.

The man let out a blood curling scream as he pushed the boy to the ground.

"THIS shamefull boy is a Zakarum priest!?" He started laughing maniacally, loud , but a disgusting coughing acces made him stop. The man had no shame , he spitted on the boy who started trembling with eyes as wide as onions. The people who were with him, came inside ravishing the place in their passing. The mocked the church by spitting on the saint artefacts, statuetes, books. The even pissed on the books then they set the pure tomes on fire laughing and swearing the Light.

A blind anger caught the boy into it's trace, he felt he was going to explode. He imagined terrible ways he would chop their sinfull bodyes , he wished to burn them to ashes. This sick thaught that belonged to the eveil made him gain strenght. He clutched his fist as he trembled animated by anger and repulsion. Breathing fast he looked around the beloved place he called Saint Church , it was filled with blasphemy, it was painted with dirt and sin. He shouted helpless as he catched his head into his fists.

They just kept laughing at him, ravishing his faith, but he made sins for thinking eveil ways to destroy them. The boy rushed to catch the man who was getting closer to his master, he had to take his sword, and show them the power of the light. He ran, but soon he was caught by two hands and held into the air. The laughings kept intensifying, now each of the people looked at him, pointed at him, laughed at him, swore him, hummiliated him. He trembled, not from fear, but from anger.

"MASTER! RUN! MASTER!" He shouted with all his power, covering the laughing and mockery. He tryed to seem strong but he was weak, he was ravished, he was just a child with big dreams. He now saw he could not defeat this bandits, he could not do anything. He was just a useless human animate by grand wishes. He trembled caught in a mad frenezy as he kept babbling.

The Cultist took the sword what was resting on the floor and held it tight into his grip.

"Fuck that Light and it's slavery!" He shouted as he looked around pleased with all the destruction his ilk was spreading. "I, the right hand of Belial am freeing you from the slavery of the putrid Light. " He laughed as he looked at the knelling priest who was praying like nothing was there to disturb him. The perfect victim to wich he could express his territorial possesion to. The cultists howled of pleasure as the bloodshed was nearing.

He rised the sword ready to behead the man but the priest turned to look at him. Malum froze under his commanding gaze, he stand his ground and laughed the the white robbed priest. He lost his words, this sudden defeat angered him more.

"HA HA HA! YOU MET YOUR DEATH LITTLE SHIT!" He shouted trying to sound more convincing and powerfull.

The priest looked at him with mercy into his pale blue eyes full of compassion.

"What is death? A scary mask. Take it off – see, it doesn’t bite. Eventually, body and soul will have to separate, just as they existed separately before we were born. So why be upset if it happens now? If it isn’t now, it’s later." He paused to lit the candle the boy could not lit, it was for his soul.

"I knew i had to die today, but i am proud i served the Light well and didn't fell victim to the darkness. No evil is honorable: but death is honorable; therefore death is not evil." His voice was calm, and pure. He spoke in a peacefull tone that made Malum's heart melt. He almost let the sword down, and he felt the urge to cry and seek peace and redemption for his grave sins. He trembled caught by a anger acces, this old rag was manipulating him. He the master of the cultists let his guard down for an old useless prick? He!? How could he? The Zakarum priest looked at him with such gentle eyes, what made the anger from Malum boil.

"WAKE UP THE BOY ! HE NEEDS TO SEE THE POWER OF EVEIL!" Malum shouted like a madman as he rised the sword.

A huge slap sticked over kid's pale face, washed by tears and pain. He gasped scared, his ribcage getting bigger and bigger with each breath he took. The boy kept trembling under the preasurre of reality. He rolled his eyes around just to take this chaotic nightmare out of his head. He saw the same red haired woman dancing around the room the was now covered by flames but she didn't sceeamed in pain. The enjoied dancing in a hurricane of fire, as she was untouchable. She smiled and a pink blush covered her round cheeks, she was beautiful, but foul. He thaught as he was mesmerized by her being and luatful energy.

"Keep in mind, anger is just a reacon in the face of pain a..." But the priest could not finish his saying because the sword fell abruptly over his head beheading him in a second. The man died without pain an suffering, like a saint. Malum started laughing in the most eveil way possible, as he watched the bloody head roll around like a ball. He rushed and pushed the head with his right led and it smashed into the wall cracking.

"I WIN!" He howled as he watched with the most intense eyes as the head got dirty and started to be attacked by mice and rats.

"MASTER!!!" The aprentice howled terrorized by the gruesome view. He was just terror and destrictions. He rised his head at the celling crying for a saviour. As he mourned and cryed they sat silent enjoing the show pf pain the helpless boy gave them. His sorrow was like blood for the vampire. He trembled not daring to beleive what just happened. It could not be, the man was a saint, a Light. He was wise, he would revive and kill them for the obscene offense they brought to this holy place. A bolt of power ran through aprentice's veins as he set himself free and run mourining at his master's corpse. Seeing this devotion, Malum boiled again, how could this pricks be so devoted and united? He thaught as he caight the boy of the collar. He laught again when he met his scared eyes. The boy switched under MMalu's squeze, the amount of power the men felt when persecuting the lad was priceless.

"Move Bitch ! "He ordered in the most poisonous tone as he pushed the boy around.

Losing his balance, the boy stumbled on the floor, but he did not gave any meaning to this. He felt angry, infuriated by their foul presence. Zakarum did not helped him to defeat this place, he had to do it himself.

"MURDERER! YOU CRIMINAL! YOU WILL SUFFER IN HELL FOR WHAT YOU DID!" The boy screamed crazed, a vein on his forehead started to swollow. He radiated power and strenght, he metamorphosed into a strong man now.

"It is your fault for the man's death!" Malum acused him, pointing at the beheaded man with a malicious grin on his face. The boy lost his ground, but now, he was not animated by fear or hwlplessness. He was animated by anger and the desire to pay back. He howled sprinting at the ciltist who hit him in the stomach with his knee.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Magnus swore him as he dragged the boy by his hair outside. The aprentice just howled curses and invoked the divinity of Zakarum in his help, but his prayers remained unanswered.

Stumbling on the stone stairs, he fell like a bag of flour accompanied by the hysterical laughs of the cultists. Looking around dazed, he saw other cultists holding something rounded in their hands, he looked closer and saw the heads of his brothers in arms, masters and priests. His blood ran cold into his veins as he hugged himself for closure. Hurt he turned his head to look for the cultist master.

Trembling like a wet dog, the boy started to growl like an animal, the most intense hate ran through his veins. The bastard was nowhere to be seen. He just spotted the same red haired dancer who smirked bitter at him .

"FATHER RATHMA!" He shouted and a lighting hit the vault of heavens with strenght booming in the air. The cultists jumped intimidated. "I AM CALLING ON YOUR MERCY TO KILL THE SINNER WHO KILLED MY MASTER!" The boy shouted looking up at the sky, tears fell from his eyes as he started crying rubing his hands desperate. "PUNISH THE EVEIL! KILL THE EVEIL SEED! KILL MY MASTER'S CRIMINAL!" The boy screamed caught up in a mad frenezy as he rised his hands at the fierce sky. From nowhere, Malum materialized in front of him weraing a saint crown of the religion on his head. The silver piece was drowned in blood that dripped on his wretched zombi like face. "KILL THE WRETCHED!" It was clear as the light day that the boy lost his minds. This desperate paryers were nothing more than desperation born from a desolalte hope. "RATHMA PUNISH THE EVEIL!" The sky was lit by lighting at every of his burning prayers. Some cultists started to whisper, debating the power and existence of the Ancient Father who could punish the ones who kill and bring death too early.

Malum started to lose his temper when he saw the little shit praying for his death.

Rising the sword over his head and leaning a bit upwards, the cultist aimed to impale the wretched kid. "FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR G..." Malum could not finish his sentence because a bolt of lighting fell dirrectly from the sky into himself.

A thunder howled wild as the justice was shared and the prey was fullfilled. Crumbling into his knees Malum sat bowing down in front of the boy, impaled by the fighting. That was the punishments for beheading the Zakarum priest. He was still alive to see the radiating happiness that enlighted on the boy's face. The lad got on his feet as a joyous nervous energy took over him. "LOOK!" He screamed pointing at the impaled man. " MASTER!" Some cultists ran to him pushing the boy away, he stumbled falling, but kept crawling to the corpse. "ALL OF YOU LOOK!" He said pointing at the humiliated Malum, a red string of blood curled out from his open mouth. "RATHMA ANSWERED MY PREY! IT IS DIVINE JUSTICE!" Some cultists defeated by the reality of this godly vengence bowed down on their kness preying to Rathma to spare them. "DIVINE JUSTICE!" The boy kept repeating it howling insanelly as he sat on his knees thanking Rathma for his mercy. Shaking from all his body he kept repeating the miracle, crying aloud. Soon all the cultist were knelling preying to Rathma.

"IT'S DIVINE JUSTICE!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I observed that writing with music helpes me relax and get over my writer's block and easy boredom.  
> Picture that inspirat me. August Friedrich Albert Schneck - Anguish
> 
> The albums/songs that helped provide this chapter are.  
> Tristania- Windows weeds  
> Within Temptation- The Dance EP  
> Peter Gundry - Goetia  
> Lucas King- Dark piano for dark minds  
> Death note- Russiam, Ryuk's Theme A, Rex Glorie Domine Kira  
> Beethoven- Moonlight Sonata


	5. Fire consumes all!

"DIVINE JUSTICE!"

This shaking howl haunted her soul. The voice of truth echoed through this mere words, a neverending shiver shrouded her frail being to the core.

She felt all the blood from her check dimming as the thunder struck Master Malum. The FIRE! She HAD TO ESCAPE the fire!

She felt like a helpless child again, searching for someplace to hide untill the world would be safe again. She felt small within her own body, it was like she was lost in a maze of some sort but she searched for the exit out of life.

She HAD TO ESCAPE the FIRE!

An extasic fear took over her as she started to ran for somewhere safe. Only the thunder and the wind followed her to where she went. She started to forget all she was, all that remained was a vague shadow that followed her clinging on her back meat, hanging by her throat, takeing all lifeforce from her body. She screamed and shouted, she pleaded gods to spare her, to make all right to bring her back home, the place where she trully belonged.

THE FIRE FOLLOWED her!

As she ran, through thunder and wind the darkness started to melt, gaining new formes distorting into shapes. With sore legs she kept running even if she felt as though she will crumble down, this this lose of controll was a sudden fear for life. It wasn't a mere fear, it morphed into a foggy nightmare from where she could not find an escape.

The FIRE FOUND it's WAY!

It was a blind hunt. Where they prey was the hunter and the victim alike.

She rised her eyes and saw ropes hanging into the trees, waiting for the humans to fell into their mortal grip. She looked in front of her and saw a multitude of shadows flying arond her like they were birds. She wanted to turn back with the heart beating into her core she turned her head. Swallowing she started crying as she saw a dense trench of smoke follow her footsteps.

She felt her heart pounding, ready to break her thin chest into small pieces. As the beast of blood was shouting for freedom, it's dense screams started to melt the bony cage wich hold the heart captive.

With this heartbeatis came an agonizing pain wich pounded her chest with a force no words could describe.

Vespertilia felt no spirit close, but this dense shadows started to fly faster towards her, growing claws and glaring, mocking eyes.

"Burn the witch!" She heard coming from behind. A wave of exclamations came, empowering the order.

Tears started falling over Vespertilia's burning checks, babbling she kept on running faster even if her body felt drained of force.

It was a wild hunt.

A soft smell of smoke invaded the area.

"No ! NO! NO!" She kept shouting over and over again, as she started to lose track over the road and venture into the most unexplored parts of the forest.

Thorns clinged on her skin digging down to the flesh, the burning numbing sensation she felt now, as her power was drained from her body, could be compared with an immense anguish. Small drops of blood fell over her once beautiful marble like skin. This macabre portrait of woman, was no more than a living nightmare, she was not the mystic muse, now she was all she had always been... the prey.

The majestic silk dress she wore fell broken, torn by thorns and wild branches of small bushes.

The smell of smoke grew dim, as the bloody scent of corpse was spread through the vast forest. That sweet smell was intoxicating, suffocating. Death overcome all life, covering it, in His ghastly cape.

A crack distorted all the repetitive routine, it was her leg. She stepped into mod the pond was deep, it kept her leg captive so she fell cracking her bones in the process. The agonizing pain shock her whole being to existence. Realizing her mortality, she crumbled defeated to the mud trembling psychotic, shooked by spasms.

Crying in terror she flinched moving frenetically her hands, crawling to safety. Gasping for air, she looked up at the night sky. Instead of moon and stars she found bloody ropes with people hanged of them. The limp bodyes were carried away by the wind, being swiped left and right, like some bells. Gasping desperatelly for air, she crawled away, closing her teary eyes.

Throes riped over her whole body what was overdone by convulsions. The smell of burned flesh surrounded her, bringing back so many damned memories. Overcome by crippeling fear, clawed by the inability to act for her saving she fained drowned in rivers of sweat and misery.

6

"FIRE CONSUMES ALL!" Adria shouted victorius, rage fueled through her shricking voice. Maghda turned her head to her, partially intrigued.

When their eyes met, Adria gave Maghda a glaring look her emerald eyes shining like burning embers.

"Malum is dead!" She exclaimed happy jumping from her chair, an extatic giggle escaped Maghda who could not beleive her ears.

"How?" Was all the tall witch could ask, this rejuvenating feeling of victory cut her words short.

"Consumed by fire!" Adria declared in her solemn tone, an echo trembing out in the room. "A thunder struck burning the wretched old rag to the bone." She added in the same solemn voice, her mind staying in a trace. A venomous smile stoned over her flushed face.

'Exactly as I have commanded.' She whispered to herself, turning to look directly at the burning candle over the table. Maghda's annoying eveil laugh started to fade from Adria's ears what ringed seized by soft whispers in the dreadfull language, only she could understand. The joufull moment was the only time where she felt a whole, when she felt capable and strong. This powers were her's to master and all who stumbled in her way, will burn, as Malum did.

She felt empowered by an immense pride, as the sweet smell of victory-burned flesh, made itself felt in the dusty old room.

6

Wakeing up from this scare who was a good sister with dead, Vespertilia found herself surrounded by stars. The small pieces of light fascinated her since childhood. They were so small, so frail, yet so powerfull to emanate a dim light and made themselfs noticed in this vast universe full marvels and horrors. She glared at them as when she was a child, a numb feeling a happyness floaded through her cracked mind.

"Whoa..." She exclamed when she observed that the stars were shifting their place, gravitating slowly from place to place. A huge smile covered her rounded face, it was innocent and pure glaring as the smile of the child who ventures into the world for the first time. She made some small steps up trying to catch a star but stopped, realizing she is not worthy of such thing. The star diserved it's freedom.

"They are living souls of humans who have saved the world." A raspy voice came to make light in her asumptions. A wave of dread fell on her spine, makeing her heart beat faster. She left a whimp and searced with her eyes an escape. But, this once beautiful vast place, was not a heaven, but a prison. She stepped back tears falling over her still burining checks.

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" A strong bombastic voice asked, that voice send shivers through her spine.

"Who are you?" Came the second voice, it was the same raspy who told her about the stars.

The felt more scared, even if she stepped back, she felt like she made no progression. The labyrinth from her mind started to blend anything into sheer forms and colors what morphed and contorsionated as a veil caught in the wind.

"You are scareing her." Came a third voice. This one was calmer than the first one.

"I see! She is traumatized." The second voice came as an answer.

"What are we going to do from now." The calm voice told in a panicked way.

"We can try." Said the raspy voice

"I HAVE A BETTER IDEA!" The celestial voice said drawing all the attention to itself. "SHE HAS TO CUT HER ROOTS, IN ORDER TO BE FREE."

"No! We might lose her. She is unstable, better mend her and care to teach her of the Balance." The calm voice came arguing.

"Kalan. A trauma won't heal by caring and warm covering! Trag is right! She has to find her roots in order to cut them, only by this she will be free. I may ask. Who are you ? "

"I... I... My" She stumbled on her words, as nothing related to her came into her mind. She felt empty, like a broken toy, for the first time in many. She started to cry as she could not provide an answer.

"Who do you remember as a relative?"

"I am... I know. My mother... Me... Vespertilia she... She is EVERYTHING. She is always here with me. She always cares for me. She told she will be soon with me. SHE PROMISED. " Tears still fell from her eyes, like a river, but her voice was surprisingly liniar. Not disturned by any whimper or sudden hiccup. She embraced herself as a eram feeling floaded into her heart when she spoke of this woman. An innocent smile covered her wet face, in her eyes sparked an unknown emotion what felt like home. A questioning feeling, what entangled in her heart always. Crossing her hands over her chest, she waitied dutifull a moment to talk more of this female she knew for an eternity.

"SHE HAS TO START FROM THE ASH." Trag'Oul declared silencing both complains from his students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psychotic feelings (apear as a response to trauma triggers) - this came in 3 sets of sympthoms: delusions, hallucinations, confused and described thaughts. 
> 
> Oh hall! I started to play Layers of Fear 2 a horror psychologic phylosophic video game. It is genial from what i have played. I finished act 1 The Unmooring, and shit! I lived under a rock 'till now.  
> Anyway! .  
> I have many to tell but nope...  
> This game made me restructure my ff and make it more ambiguous ambitious and serious. I also wanna write more psychotic deliric stuff and i think the best option will be a chapter about Vespertilia's discovery. I also do not want to .make this understand only by myself. I think I WILL make another chapter where i explain in detail the simbolism of Vespertilia's discovery.  
> See you soon, peonies!


	6. Sleepwalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OVER 4k words. My longest chapter wow!  
> IT should have been a special Halloween chapter, but i could not finish it because my sister came and we spend it togheter watching horror movies. 
> 
> Music i listened to during the writing process.  
> Layers of fear 2 - soundtrack  
> Amnesia Rebirth - soundtrack (very dissapointing game! For me it was terrible in the and way)  
> Draconian - Under a godless veil( album)  
> Cradle of Filth- Cruelty of the best ( album)  
> Opeth- Orchid, Blackwater park (albums)

The mind has more within it than feelings and thaughts, it is a vast realm of chaos and labyrinth, where only devotion comands. The decadence of it, is a silent torment wich can alter the view of the world in such monstruos ways. The fools are here to justify the use of wisdom, they are here to show to us the shamefull side of humanity.

Ambition and the entangled ways of life will soon make the most enlightened mind ascend into darkness, the bottomless pit of hallucination, sister with madness in essence.

Souless is the seeker or truth, 'cause he will burn the foolish and imperfect in the flame of his hyenous envy.

Human heart loves tragedy and heart ache, that is why they will always ascend deeper and deeper into the vault of darkness 'till they will reach Hell. That is why they are contempted to wollow in their misery until the body becomes a souless carcass, driven by instinct.

Infected is the soul of the one drowned into the moor of desolation.

"Mother have mercy of us! Defend us of the fires of the Burning Hells! Protect us of the mercyless stab of the Heavens! The wind of east is stabbing us with it's blade. The screams of war echoo through my skull, I can't resemble the Bellicose Carnifex again! Mother help my soul! Oh you blessed being of blood and power, I offer you mother my power, my soul, my birth right!" Magnus was shricking while screaming this heavy prey, his lungs burning aching with each word. His hands rised up at the heavy sky of autumn, full of dark clouds, the vault of heaven grimed by omenous ravens, the birds of Death were once again spread through ether, singed their omen of existential decay. Trembling he made his offer loud, a mad galare sparked within his black onix eyes, jewells of Hells. "Oh mother, look at me, oh you blessed mother. Come through the flame! Free your soul from the cage! How, will you punish those who brought us death, heartbreake, torment, and burden!" As he was reciting tormented by a hot shiver that drove him into an excitative frenezy. He sat one at the very edge of the world, between Sanctuary and Cosmos, looking mad into the eyes of the unfolding universe. From the flame of the stars came the power that immersed his soul into the astral dimension. He was breaths apart from Lilith, his Ancestral Mother who shall free him from the chains of this mere apathic existence, ascending him at the very pure stage of the fierce beast he was born to be.

It was so intense that he failed to stay still, to stay intact as the man he looked like. With trembling hands he threw on fire all the gifts for his Ancestral Mother.

The pomegranates and apples refused to burn down, they just baked into the fire, emanating a bittersweet smell that attracted some sleepwalking bees . Craking later in the process, smashed by the limbs of fire.

A soft trace of a smile arched on his thin lips, he could feel the heavy comanding essence of his mother. She was here with him, she heared his preyer, she assisted him through this sabbath dedicated to her.

A forgotten lust ached through his ravaged being as he felt palms caressing his naked back, relaxing his muscles, he welcomed that extatic feeling.

The pale ghost of the moon looked at him through the rags of the heavy clouds, the wind howled with such bloodshed Magnus almost undersrood the widowed words behind the hungry piercing.

The hungry spirits of demons are never sincere. Bring with them an obssesive devotion that drives the witch in a frenetic circle of addiction of power.

Naked , lost in the night of october, like a damed sleepwalker, Malum crawled to the flame searching for the power he could not manage, nor even dream of holding.

He could not fell the whip of the wind slapping against his bare skin, ardent by the feral force that shaped him in a new animalic way, he started screaming like a hag-ridden circling around the flames.

Extending his arms, like he wanted to hug someone, he stopped listening to the hazard around him.

The tiny whimper from the bag he left in the distance made him stop and analize all his actions, with a bloodcurling glare he grabbed it quickly then opened it, ripping the bag in the process.

Helpless a Fallen baby swinged in his beast like grab, the cultist decided that holding the demon by its chest was too human and sweet so he grabbed it by his leg, holding it upside down.

The little red demon screamed, scaring the sleeping crows that started cawing still hanged by the branches of the trees. The cawing scared the little demon more, it started to scream louder and louder, holding in its little mind, the hope that it could be saved. The little blundle of crimson flesh started to shiver seized by the terrors of this moments, it is unimaginable, but tears fell like a cascade over the diformed face of the demon.

It did nothing wrong, but it will, they always will. It was the pattern of his damned lineage ! The beings cought in this nebula will always follow their lineage religiouselly, it will spill blood later. They always did!

But a single wish battered through its small mind, it was for it all to end. Nothing it did was helpfull , helpless the small ostatic moved it's hands around in an utopic attempt to gather a last moment victory. It still beleived in a victory, in the luck of the last moment that gave it a sense of courage to fight for it's freedom.

It was already defeated, but it stubbornly fought this horror. The small thing shriked while it shrinked in the bestiality of this moment. It's shriking sounded like a pleading. Like it had feelings, but Malum knew it was just a trick, he knew this foul little beast could feel the presence of the Mother and that was why it bitched. Something in his mind set him on fire, something deep and forgotten came back to him in full force, urging him to unveil all his brutality. It urged him to do it, it was like he lived under to command of the instince. Like a beast.

Death and pain begot a child nameing him fear, and left him free into the world as their most sacred mesager, the silent harvester of chaos. That ravaged the body and the mind with such brutality it left scars on both soul and mind. It looks so tempting to many, the power to broke something and someone into pieces, to make them crush under your own pressure. This was a victory for the vicious, a victory many fought to inflict, forgetting that the Eye of The Dragon sees anyone and will punish them to carry within what they have unleashed.

The soulless emotion fled with the wings of time into each corner of existence. It was the only language human demon and angel understand and divined.

The little demon started to lose it's voice, in the damned claws of fear that soaked it's body in a cold bath of ice. On it's naked back he felt a cold thing scratching deep within it's flesh.

The roar echoed through the haunting night, stronger than before, the agonazing pain froze it's wretched blood .

The pale tortured being hanged helpless in the cruel grip of the man with lifeless eyes. The cold grip of agony devoured the small being who was shakeing heavelly in the arms of it's gruesome executioner.

The pain kept twisting in it's body, takeing new forms. Each incarnation of this torture was more monstrous that the previous one. With each layer of the cut it could feel the life force disipating from itself, traping it's soul into a prison of flesh and bones. The panick of barelly existing, not living, woke a ferral rage within the malformed mind of the demon who now, started to curse with it's tongue full of anguish. Spasms chokeed it's heavelly breathing. Over a time, only some mumblings and growls escaped it's dry lips.

The huge mouth opened to unleash another scream.

In vain!

As time went by, the life force started to dissipate , the screaming became a feint bellow, the spasmic shakeing turned into a helpless limping, it's long clawed hands hanged helpless, numbed it's bones ached becoming so hard to feel.

It could feel death came near it. It just kept to beseech it over and over. The denying from the last moment, the raw picture of excruciating fear of the real. It is the reason why many can't overcome themselfs.

Magnus looked proud at his opera, it was a monument of sorrow and torture, a raw piece of negative energy conjured in the most wild way possible, it would please the mother. of the he was certain!

This scene of violence made his heart sink into the calm water of serenity, but for just a moment. The demon within will wake him up again in the middle of the night asking for some warm blood. Human is the host of both angel and demon, he is the one who decides wich entity will be the ruler of his life.

The fresh sour smell of demon blood was delicious, he closed his eyes, picking on the energy around him. It's heavy like led press over his shoulders made him feel revigorated in a unique way. This energy was the only one to absolve him of every shaded feeling of smallness that haunted his whipping twisted nature. Is real that the one who feels small will crush the others just to gain that feeling of greatness.

Full of an imense pride, canibalistic even, he glared at the traumatized demon(who the hell would have beleived that a creature of torment can feel torment?)

A glow of pure vengence burned within it's teary eyes. The thing roared clutching it's teeth. But Malum had other plans for it.

When the first owl howled, marking the middle of the night, he threw the body dirrectly into the limbs of fire. The pale white skin glowed, shining in an inhuman way, the pleasure was a small word for the hurrycane he carried deep inside. Kneeling in front of the flames, he set his piercing deadly cold eyes on the fire.

"Mother can you accept it? " He said in a low tone admiring sadistic, the inflamed body that started to run around screaming.

"MOTHER I AM YOUR DEVOTED SON! "

His onyx eyes shone in an unnatural light, it seemed like they hold within the moon and protected it In it's desperate attempt to save it's tiny insignifiant life. Along with the demon the nature that chased to exist become a spark that illuminated the night of the Sabbath.

But Malum was blind to the vegetation that sparked like melted iron like colors around him.

The little thing was put down by a sharp flying bone that viciouselly cut its throat, beheading it without hesitation. Gagging the still living head rolled down into the muddy earth looking with hatefull eyes at the stunned Magnus.

The cultist looked around smelling the ashy air, his senses told him that someone was near, he knew who it was but he could not accept the presence of such parasite. He frowned analyzing the deep darkness around him, hoping to find a bit of the contour of the fucking maggot. His rounded eyes frowned searching from a sign that could announce the physical presence of the traitor.

Enclosed into a deep state of pain and remorse Magnus spitted down, waiting for the unexpected visit.

"It seems that you can't stay dead for long, ha !" He started to accentuate the words hoping to catch the traitor this time. No answer came, just a dry bitter laugh that circled him like a rope.

"I... have always been between worlds. I am neither dead, nor alive. Just frozen in time." The dark voice sounded like a whisper but it held something malicious inside. A small hint of a craftiness melted with a cunning finese that dripped from the words and tone of the speaker made his hate boil.

The shadow of a man appeared around him and moved quickly, like a dark cloud of smoke, into another place, he feared to be spotten, it seemed. Impatient Magnus waited for the man to start talking or to go away, but nothing of those came.

The uninvited man just sat there watching with piercing eyes. Magnus could feel the hate and resentment for the visitor, why was this rotten corpse running this Sabbath?

The limbs of fire started to move into the east cutting the air with fierce force. Step by step, the figure of the man materialized into body, he's bony visage makeing Magnus's stomach roll. He never changed from then! He thaught to himself. But still the sick pallor of his smooth skin, the fate did not forgot him either. Stretched over him sharp bones the yellowish purpleish skin was a testemony of time's passing.

"The body does not matters, what matters is the mind and soul." Came the answer from a deep tone.

Twitching Magnus recalled that he had the innate talent to read people's feelings, sensations, emotions and thaughts. He clutched his fists feeling like a caged animal.

"What DO YOU WANT?"

Rathma didn't answered he just moved, hypnotized towards the flames, even if it was going to set him on fire, he got closer and closer.

He grined at the flames, holding his daggar into his right hand as a sign that he is not there for a nice chat about weather and jam . In a matter of seconds, he cut a long lush strand of hair and hold it in his palm. Analizing it with dreamy eyes, then he drew some symbols, with his daggar, over it. Rage screamed thrpugh his bones, but he held it caged, he was going to be swift and diplomatic about it.

"You know?" Rathma told the flames leaning closer and closer, he spoke in a low tone, like he was talking to a person. "that I am willing to do even the ultimate sin. In his view. To crush you and yours down. I came from the dead to withdraw the power within you! As long as I am, you will not succed, nor you, nor him !" He whispered throwing the hair strand into the fire. Immediatelly the fire stretched to grab him by the throat, viciouselly the beauty of the innocent fire turned into a howling beast.

"How dare you, to act like this towards your mother?" Magnus groaned under his breath, annoyed by the harsh tone of the necromancer. Instead of explaining. Rathma stood his ground, he would not lose his temper over such small quarill. Rathma learned that from an early age that he could not leave the hunger of others feed off of him. It was forbiden! As the scarlet flames were streatching to grab him, he moved his eyes slowly over this new faithfull enemy he had. Magnus looked healthy, talking about the body, but his soul, his soul was like a scare tale for the stoic necromancer. The fanatic servility rooted deep within the vast heart of Magnus made Rathma shudder under the preassure of an internal sense of dense anguish.

Something in Rathma cracked at the very sensation her naked essence gave him. It was a feeling of utter disgust molded with a deep rooted hate. 'Trag'oul give me patience to endure!' He preyed as he shifted his mind from external effects to internal fortification build in millenials.

Rathma sighed tired, he was tired of all this power struggle, this endless bloodshed disguised in a worthless charade.

The pale vertigo of memories stole him away for just a second, a precious time in wich the seed of the lafiless hate was planted within his core.

He tryed to fight back this ghost of eternal defeat, an eternal falling into a formless labirinth.

The age of the rat caught up to him, stripping him off of every layer of virtue he built. Looking into the vast horizon he realized with horror that he lost his direction again, but he knew, drowning in the sea of shame won't help him.

Even with another name this agresive past turned back to him, stronger than before. In this moment, he started to tear up under the pressure of despair, but he would not give this lunatic the chance to laugh at him, he will use all his cards to defend his sacred duty.

"Magnus tell me, is your own freedom the price you wanna pay for obtaining power?" He will play with all his cards, he won't surrender to this feeling of failure.

"You hopeless coward!" Magnus spitted hatefull. " You tell me about freedom, when all you did all your existence was to hide and run? You, the one who was always defeated? You who are at soul a twin of Inarius." Rathma started to boil in his core, he felt the need to puke just by the thaught of uniting himself with this teadstol. His facial features distorted, exposing his real mental and emotional state. His baricade against the world fell smashed by a torrent of a wild river. His soul was naked in the wild torment of a sly fate, his whole personality crumbled slowly, under the heavy pressure of the segregated memories. Breathing in he recognised himself defeated but he stood still waiting for Magnus to give him a new rope.

Magnus set his dead eyes on Rathma's chest area, he grined in a sinister way as he pushed Lilith's son with a savage fierce in the chest.

Rathma just screamed clutching his chest desperate, he trembled under the sudden torrent of pain wich twisted his facial features in a plaintive manner. His breathing became heavy as he struggled to stand his ground, the hot pain made him go dizzy. Biting his lip, Rathma set a dead grip over Magnus who never looked so proud. "That was not just plain boiled water." Magnus started to explain to Rathma who was fighting to not roll down pinned by the pain. He would give him a heavy blow, and maybe make him an ally, He congratulated himself at such thaught, his powers were far more impressive and vaster than his. When Rathma heard this, his eyes grew bigger. "This was hexed, poisoned water. She wanted to scar you for an eternity and give you a heavy blow. But this person, was too mercyfull, even if you wronged her so so much. She didn't aimed at your insides. Or your progenitors. She touched your chest for a little bit. Just to give you an advertisemnt." Magnus watched delightfull the show of emotions over Rathma's pale face, the sick lime - pastel yellow color from his body was a neverending rarity. The veins of his body started to swollow under pressure, like some wild rivers, the blue veins made him look even more morbid, the repugnant contrast between the two oposite colors was a mirror for what happened within. He looked ready to explode, like a swollen corpse of some small animal, if touch of for a little bit, it explodes in gross soft and wormy insides. "Quicksilver!" Magnus added spreading his arms, stretching his body to just relax his tense muscles.

Rathma's face fell to the ground. Trembling and humiliated, his mind ran wilder than he allowed it to go. Directing his eyes dirrectly at the veiled moon Rathma started to giggle for a short period of time, just to make Magnus curious. He had to keep his energy calm, Lilith was feeding off of his essence after all. Like and other demon does. Closing his eyes he picked the first thing that united him with the world and started to drown deep within it's resonance. He won't be Lilith's meal. Not again!

"The crystal moonlight remained me it her. The thaught of what she felt in her final moments, when she was forced to abandon her quest in the most humiliating way, haunted me."

Once again, Magnus was surprised by Rathma's sudden mood change, a minute ago he looked like he was dying inside, and now he was calm and opened for a conversation. Really strange, he wondered if solitute drove Rathma's mind into a deep state of degradation and alteration. "You are insane!" Magnus murmured under his breath looking entraced at the first nephalem.

Rathma opened his arms and spred them like he had wings, the cold icy autumn night wind made his sore wounds calm down. Still trembling from the physical shock he opened his robe for just a little to let the air sooth his sorrow . The burning sensation that hurt his whole chest while breathing, dimmed down at the sudden contact with a cold environment, but he knew he had to clean the woung again. Now he just enjoyed the cold air and focused on something else, that could turn the tide for him. Lowering his tone, he declared in a very melancholical voice that which made Magnus all were and eyes. "After so long, it seems the fate is repeating over and over again, so I begin to think, is immortality the repetition of any mistake and any downfall we do?" It seemed the firstborn was talking more to himself than with the cultist. Rathma looked at the blood from his palms and grinned his teeth in frustration. Magnus started to be angry with all this fucked up mind states and games, the rage that they were passion from one another was too much for him to handle this time. This, this shaded lunatic was here for Hells know what, and he also dared to put all his powers down for what. His mother was right, she was always right. She was pure at heart, more pure than any angel or enlightened wise man he had ever knew. The air he inhaled kept becoming hotter and hotter under his carcass. It wasn't the air, it was his flesh and blood that became to boil under the unseen pressure of unveiling the painfull past that had no mercy over them. His hands trembled and his lower lip started to move slowly veiled in spasms. A heavy energy pressed him over his body, tighter and tighter, he felt he would die from the grip. All his memories floaded into his mind presenting the same violent scenery of loss and mourn. His mind singed death wises on anyone who ever wronged him or his cause. They were just deceivers. The soulless heaven, who carried no remorse deserved death. The fristborn who stepped over his martyr mother deserved a excruciating execution.

"SHE SAVED US FROM OUR PARENTS WHO WANTED TO EXTINGUISH US! SHE SAVED OUR LIFES! SHE IS OUR PROTECTOR AND BLESSED MOTHER! IF IT WASN'T HER, WE WOULD BE LONG DEAD BY THEIR HANDS." Magnus howled clutching his fist and shuveling it under Rathma's nose. His mad eyes woke no reaction into Rathma who observed him in silence, not daring to ruin his mental break down.  
He who seeks immense power is the weakest of all! Rathma thaught before mslting into shades. He could not stand this mad charade, it just chopped his dignity.


	7. Celebrating a deadly enemy within the best friend

Magnus and Rathma sat in front of each other, bodies resting on soft mattreses as their knees hold all their wieght. A small candle placed in a jar full of water lightened their pale faces. No one spoke, their eyes just connected them with eachother at an unconcious level in wich they could tap on other's soul through the glimpses of sparks emanated by their eyes.

Rathma brought his palms over his knees, realigning himself straight, taller than before, aligning his body on solid shape that had him more relaxed.

"I started to astra..." Magnus broke the mute silence that stoned them straight statuetes. But a man entered inside the room without knooking, his messy presence brought a sense of worry within the two friends who watched him carefull.

"Linarian...Bul'kathos asks for you..." The man gasped the words so quickly it was very hard for them to put word by word aside, but Rathma did not flinched. "Miss Freya gave me a letter for you." The man handed to Rathma a small piece of white paper, covered in pine scent. The nephalem just hid it inside his robe, like nothing happened, then he gave an apple to the messager.

"He insists in seeing you immediatly, he wants you to be present at the spring solstice with him." He continued, trying to pursue Rathma, as the man instructed him to do.

"Tell him this. I am not going to come because wine and debuchery are not my main interests." The man's face shone with a small ray of light as Rathma placed the coin in his palm. "Go now !" The man put his hat back on his head then apologizes for the interruption leaving them alone again.

"I am sorry, what were you saying?" Rathma revived the chat as he felt that silence would just add salt to the wound. Magnus felt the desire to know exactly what was going on, but he felt bad for asking so open about such things.

"I started to astral travel. It felt like I was the master of the world and anything had just fallen in my wake. I...I could move with a deep part of my mind...it happened outside my body and I found spirits.. they are just mere shadows who granted me knowledge and were more..."

Rathma's face frowned in a way that signaled an utter sense of a pitful dread that emanated deep from within.

"Don't do that again without a proper hold of yourself!" He started to close his body to Magnus' as he looked him deep within his ashy eyes while talking.

"We are nephalem, stronger than angel and demon alike, that does not mean we are invincible. The continuous collide of instincts and oposites within our souls can demolish our logic and reality within mere seconds. Thus we have to gain a proper understand at our self, the instincts, that controll our bodies in times of intense desire or crisis. We have to unify ourselfs because the astral is the world of myth, tell tale, angels, demons, dragons, spirits, phantasmas. It is a place that can suck whole our whole resonance only by stating into it's abyss. Take caution at my words Magnus, this is not a quest but a labyrinth of the universe. " Magnus started to laugh at the stirring fear from Rathma's tone. The black haired nephalem was dead serious, his face takeing the shape of a dour complex, he looked more like a father who rebuked his beloved son in an affair of strategy and tactic.

"I am serious Magnus, many lost their minds from this, including my father." He told still staring in the endless sea of darkness that lied within Magnus' narrowed eyes.

"Searching for power in the vast realms of the Universe can solidify our grasp of the world and of ourselfs. If we sit there, we just turn to incapable beings who can not do anything for themselfs. Thinking of past can bring nothing more than an everlasting grief. Rathma you are too afraid of the Universe, this is why you lost time with breaking yourself into pieces then lose time analize yourself. " Magnus said ablazed by the fire of a contradictory discution what could gave him some insights from the point of view of the other. They became best friends by talking about the wisedom they gathered inside their minds. But the nevrotic vigilence of Rathma drove Magnus insane at times. Still it was a serious sign that foretold who was in fact stronger from them both. "Why do you lose time with Bul'kathos and his band of drunk blighters?" Mgnus asked after the silence sat between them both, like a veil of dust over some neglected furniture. "Is it his sister who intrigues you? " He asked this rethoric question slower like he was afraid of someone catching up this truth.

Rathma just smirked siftly then turned to stretch his hands as his bones poked under the pressure. "I find him very interesting, this wild careless blind courage of him makes him a great ally. Yes, I am not a coward, his sister is a lovely woman in my eyes." Rathma's look softened at the thaught of holding someone dear. He continued to talk as he wished to make himself understood cimpletelly." I do not seduce and leave behind, I am not my mother. I commit my life to what I want to have. I do not want to have bad blood with those who I have to stand by for a very very long time. Better to have a shoulder to lie on, than a spear in the back." Rathma bit an apple, closing his eyes satisfyed by the logic that painted his existence in warm shades of light colors.

But something, a strong sense of ego, a lurking taste for ambition and surpression broke this friendship into shreds. Both of them let themselfs drove in life by their ambitions so a friendship was not a thing that could satisfy their egoes in ascension, as time came to pass, the relationship was surpassed by age and the nature of their paths. As Rathma struggled to tan his being, Magnus searched to devour the deep receits of knowledge that were presented to him. The paths they took shaped them so differently, so they found within each other a withered cause, and later an enemy they could not bare looking straight without a weapon in their hands.

In a best friend we should also celebrate the worst enemy, as life is not set in stone and the winds of fate can turn the tides against our deepest desires.

Nothing is static, so we should never attatch to mere illusions of a sickly weak ego. Happiness is the most blinding cause one could shape his life around.

As their duties collided, both men set the withered rose on fire, the trempled the ash with their dirty feet.

The morbid shift from their perspective had them realize how much meaning can shape one's world. Ambitious men, not cowards silenced by threats, not gratefull with the gift of life, they morphed their spirits and bodies to reflect the ones of true nephalem.

They both washed their hands on a cause that had to save the world, both of them insurected their lifes to great hazards, both closed themselfs in the universe of mythic who took their souls in different ways.

Both preached salvation in ways blasphemous to the other.

A friendship killed by the passing of time, by rhe love for oneself. As their causes crushed leaving them hanging helpless by the nail of distress they started to create actions of revenge and redemption to save themself of the absolute shame of losing.

Both men threathened other's safe dogma with a mere presence so they had to collide untill one fell, or until the false truth of other's eyes started to show itself as a waste of cause, an empty hollow reality.

It starts in tears.

It grows in sweat.

It finishes in blood.

It brings pain, heartache, paranoia and death.

The sacrificial act of vengence is one of absolute vigilence, blessed by tight patience.

A wounded frail mind will always remember the excuciantingly pain that smashed it out of it's small and safe Heaven.

The sound of woe and the smell of sorrow will haunt in the serenity of silence sheding pieces of raw hate over the frail concience. Tired and tired of all the incandescent failure that keps morphing into forms of serpentine beasts, the soul just blooms into the drowning age of desperation. It didn't really blooms because it withers away eaten by a visceral malady and looses it's perfect grace before the blooming. After it, the body sustains a sharp soul, who wonders through world that are not real, just fantasmas drrssed in shrouds of guilt and shame. The first sign of a burial meant to come.

Memory just adds frost to snow, nothing sweet in the reminding of the same twitched abomination, cursed in any day, night and breath. The neverending repetition of the same memory of shame casts the mind in a pureblind horror.

Vengence is the fruit of despair, the unwanted child of failure, vengence is always the solving for those who could not stand for themselfs, the guilt of falling themselfs chews in the back of their minds night and day, day and night, year by year. The hate for those who stepped with their hoofs over the small precious world of the loser is like the scythe of Lord Death, polished, not fighiving, unique-one of a kind.

But the solving in his mind is, to make the other lose much more. The only solving point for the one who was dragged through dirt, spitten, ruined, treated less than even an animal.

Imense lies invented by hurt, to justify the havoc , the hazard fill the mind with obscene brutality, impaling the perfect nephalem by the Gates of Hell as a trophy of failure.

The rust never sets on the weddinglocks of resentment and hate, the pages all filled with mantras of destruction, wrote in blood, describe in lush detail the sin against oneself.

Grudge...

But the proud spirit knows only one thing 'there is no ending', twisting in a nest full of vermilon.

The spirit of the wolf always sheds it's skin in an attempt to look inocent in the eyes of the same tremendous devaluated depravation.

Shame...

Hollow, the static mind twitches, around the same sibgular escape that provides the practices violence an exercise in futility, but it brings a sense of empowerment.

Because, revenge is such a neverending slippery road where many have lost their lifes for a nail stuck in the heart.

Incapacity...

The plot of revenge is won, not by the hazard, but by the one who knows to turn the curse into vitality, and the mascarade of shame into a parade of triumph. The one who fals the last from this infernal dance of massacrated egos, this is the one to win the useless battle of revenge.

"You are just a boy who needs his mother...but that whore will NEVER BE A MOTHER!" The sharp words of Rathma echoed through his head filling him with the most acute sense of spite his soul could bare. The present brought them again face to face, but now it was different. Both of them felt this radical truth wisper in their intuition.

Magnus shriked under his cover, his bones stiff with pain from the last night sabbath. This words of offense filled him with such a venom that he could overcome the whole world by a simple spell.

Rathma was speaking of whores when all his previous women cheated on him or used him for knowledge so they could ascend! He spoke about parenthood when he was very cold and dour with his children, acted like they were on their own, in the moment when he scattered them away into Sanctuary! Then a devoted friend, now an enemy, this cold reality made Magnus see Rathma for the coward he really was.

Magnus' blood was boiling in his whole body, because of how this loser was speaking, Rathma the one who could not keep a relationship, his children safe, protect his wife.

Magnus wanted to laugh at his face But as it usually happens in tight arguments , where not only honor but the sense of self is on thr plate of the winner, the blood is boiling, the head is spinning as anger is steaming you can not find good arguments to slap the other one right in the face with them. You just spin around like you've lost your head, screaming and boiling, preying for a miraculous sentence that can cut away the tongue of your adversary.

All he could do now was to sit inside the covers and think of this man's life, search for reasons Rathma was small. Like anyone who feels threatened, they will find reasons to demonstrate to themselfs how insignifiant the other's persona and life is. A cheap tactic. Harvesting hate does not brings florurish. Just a full circle that leads to the same incapacity and deep seeded envy.

All he could do now was to sit inside the covers and think of this man's life, search for reasons Rathma was small. Like anyone who feels threatened, they will find reasons to demonstrate to themselfs how insignifiant the other's persona and life is. A cheap tactic. Harvesting hate does not brings florurish. Just a full circle that leads to the same incapacity and deep seeded envy.

Reasons that could rise his pride and difuse his putrid nail in the ego, Rathma. His first memory was with Rathma fallen into the side of the road, drunk in the first morning hour. Dry herbs arranged his hair looking like a bird nest, dirt rested onto his clothes his skin, as well as inside his mouth. Neglected feelings roamed over his face as he was trying to articulate some words, but all he could do was to stumble on fractured thaughts that had no meaning. Just mere moments from his past, long gone, seeded into his most inner side of his mind, pieces of life that haunted him.

He stared bitter at the orange clouds, as the light cut his vision. When Magnus reached him, he just spit defeated. "Ack...ma...aif!" He moved his jelly members in an attempt to bring himself togheter, save the last bit of dignity and self respect he had for himself, but the ditch started to attatch to Rathma, or Rathma started to attatch to the ditch? As the ancient rested all his body weight on his elbow, he felt like he was moved by a wave and brought back to the sqare one. Such a shame! He attempted to rise again, but he succeeded by the thousenth try, he saw it as the thousenth try, on shaky knees he moved his arms around himself, just to find some balance but, he fell back, smashing his body by the cold earth biteing a handful of dust on his ghastly landing. Spitting dirt he begin to swear, stretching his body out of the ditch, into the road. All of this under the looks of Magnus and Bul'kathos. The drink was a way to distract himself away from the force who pushed him in the claws of despair, who loved to humiliate him all the time. It felt like his parents imprinted their fingertips on him, scaring their grudge into his whole resonance. "Ack.. this ...ll!" He gave up, accepting his fate as a fucked up winebag, just for now. His inner self knew all along this was wrong, it just could not surpass the desire to escape. Rathma's proud soul needed a humility big enough to burn the path to his destroying vice.

Magnus exhaled after this thaught. He felt more competent now, compared to Rathma who started as an alcohoolic, womenizer, insecure man. But he bloomed as a firm man, with an infinite acces to wisdom.

Still the memory of a drunk broken Rathma caressed his soul, in ways no woman could do right now. He soothed inside his covers, calmed as the failure of the othere miraculouselly releived his pain.

"Master Magnus come! Master Licius is going crazy! COME!" A man screamed from the other side of the door pushing with a ferocity that could move mountains. Sighing exasperated, Magnus moved on his side, despite the whiping pain from his bones.

"Coming!" He answered hollow, as he covered his body better with the fluffy bear fur.

"GO NOW!" The leader of the Coven screamed atop his lungs, smashing things with telekinesis so he could make the other one think he was getting ready.

There was nothing he could do for that fat bag of rashness, he brought the havoc upon himself with his two hands. Plus Magnus wasn't his father to stay at his head and care for his safety. In fact, with all the attempts of Licius to strip off the identity of the Coven, the fat worm brought upon himself so many hateful glows and sharp tallons.

Runnig footsteps echoed on the empty hole departing from his presence, so Magnus made himself confortable inside the bed.

This was the perfect time for them to strike, so Magnus through his missing, made them all a favor.

'In fact I grew bored with this worm in my back! I just wonder how the Prime Incarnations will rip him off.' Turning on his back he looked outside the window, contemplating his two options to stay away, or watch a show, with care. 'Maybe, I should enjoy a show after all.'

How he desired Vespertilia's pressence now, she knew how to make a plot and turn the cards, but she went missing, liks the earth simply swallowed her whole. All the demons he sent to search for her told him the same word of frost, NOTHING. He got used with the thaught he lost her, but inside his mind she was always there. Her memory followed him in dizzy dreams of fog where she gave her affection to him.

Sighing he let his heavy eyes close, as an expected sleep stole him away from the living.

Magnus never had a mother, nor a father. He was begat by two monsters who feed off of his sanity. All he was just a mere puppet for their sadistic amusements. Only an object. All the scars they left over his

But when Lilith retaliated, when she left him an orphan, when she marked vvengece with their own blood. He felt a warmth cover all that hate abyss that hold the place of his heart.

Rathma could not understand that, he was born to tample and destroy he was like Inarius deep within an offense he could not see or else the proud virtuous Rathma will kill himself of such shame, he could not submitt because of his grande ego.


End file.
